Fair Ravenclaw, From Glen
by Alyx Bradford
Summary: The story of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four Founders of Hogwarts. A sort of biography, really. Begins with her childhood in North Umbria, follows her to her education first with presumably the greatest wizard in the Isles. Except that he's about to be
1. Prologue

**_Fair Ravenclaw, From Glen_**

****

**Prologue**

Rowena did not remember the first move; she had been too young. The first hasty packing she recalled dated from her fifth year, when her mother was heavily pregnant with the child that would be Lynet. Though she was, at that point, old enough to remember the relocation, she was as yet too young to understand the reasons behind it. Between the second and third moves, however, Rowena learned much. Her mother, Ainslee of the famed beauty, finally saw fit to explain to her inquisitive little girl. "They just… they don't understand us, my dear," Ainslee said, holding the babe Lynet on her hip. "Some of them are afraid of us, and some of them are jealous, and some…" She sighed heavily, and seven year old Rowena, though a precocious child, was not experienced enough in the world to understand the emotion behind the exhale. Ainslee looked over at the soup, still patiently stirring itself, and then glanced over at the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling of their little cottage. "And some, my dear girl, hate us for reasons even they do not understand."

It was the third move, however, that left the greatest impression.

Rowena was a moon's cycle short of eight years old at the time, and the Ravenclaw family had been living for three years quite happily and quietly in a village outside of Hexham. Claennis had been born when Rowena was seven, two years after Lynet, and by all accounts the family prospered. Rowena's father, Enda, raised crops that never failed and owned livestock that never sickened. Ainslee had for years been proscribing little remedies and helpful tips to anyone who needed them, and in return the neighbors were always quick to share extra provisions, or to pass along any small luxuries to the kind woman who always knew what to do if a baby had the colic or a child just couldn't shake a cough.

But the summer of 913 (though few of the townsfolk knew that to be the year) was hot and dry, and the farmers of North Umbria were not accustomed to dealing with droughts. When adults began sickening, sheep began dying, and cows stopped giving milk, suspicion turned immediately and unflinchingly towards the only family untouched by suffering in these hard times: the ever-fortunate Enda Ravenclaw, his wife, and three babes.

For the rest of her life, Rowena would never be able to tolerate the smell of smoke in any intensity beyond that of a snuffed candle. The scent would forever be associated with the way orange flames licked at the black summer sky, with ear-piercing shrieks, with the sight of Orlege the blacksmith holding Ainslee back from rushing into the cottage to save her children. Enda and Ainslee had eventually broken free from their captors and recovered their wands, and promptly began hexing everyone in sight. When the villagers fled in terror, Enda grabbed the stunned Rowena, and ran. After a few weeks spent in a tavern in Durham, with Ainslee singing for their suppers, Rowena mending clothes and telling stories, and Enda gambling his way to glory, the three Ravenclaws moved to Alnwick, further north, and Rowena was again, as she had been born, an only child.

The Ravenclaws recovered quickly, as they always had, at least in financial means. Ainslee was never quite the same again, and Enda hid his despair in his business, stalwartly spending all his waking hours working on a tavern of his own. The business suited him well, and was more lucrative than farming, but never again did Rowena see in either of her parents the joy for life she had known as a small child. Rowena, though, continued to thrive. She felt some degree of guilt for doing so when her parents never seemed to smile, but the tavern provided Rowena with a great many opportunities. The girl loved to learn, anything and everything she could, and from any traveler that would teach her. She had already learned a great deal of herblore from her mother, but the people who passed through Dusty Raven taught her a wide variety of talents. From an old ex-warrior, she learned how to hold a sword. From a woman of Mercia, she learned how to weave intricate patterns on a loom. From a man who lived across the sea, she learned words in a language she had never before heard. Not only common learnings found their way to Rowena; the Dusty Raven was renowned in North Umbria's magical community as something of a haven, and any witch or wizard passing through was glad to reduce the cost of a night's room and board by a half a penny by teaching the Ravenclaws' daughter a little of what they knew. Rowena absorbed every scrap of knowledge that came her way, and this process bolstered her spirits so that she, unlike her parents, was not crushed by loss.

In later years, Rowena would come to look on this move as a blessing in a very hidden disguise. If they had not moved to Alnwick, Rowena might never have come to the attention of one Lady Moira Aighan.


	2. The Lady Moira

**Chapter One**

**The Lady Moira**

_August, 913, Alnwick, __North Umbria_

It happened late in the summer of 913. Rowena's eighth birthday had recently passed, or at least everyone supposed it had. She had been born on the Full Fruit Moon of 905, and it was now a week past full. The Ravenclaws had been in Alnwick for a few weeks now. Rowena was helping her mother by cleaning the linens, and had taken them out to wash and hang on the line when a stranger approached from the roadside. Rowena, who was repeating to herself a few Frankish words she had learned from a traveling cleric, did not notice. At one point she tripped, tugging the drying line down from its tree. Rowena yelped, and outstretched her hand, unable to do anything else. The line hung in midair. Rowena blinked a few times, startled, then hastily stood and grabbed the end, winding it back around the nail stuck in the tree and tying it off.

The stranger went inside the tavern, and said nothing.

For two days, he observed the dark-haired girl from a distance, watching as she went about her chores, and taking careful note of all the little magics that worked their way into her daily life. Many she hardly seemed aware of, whether summoning a cup or plate a mere few inches, or levitating herself while on tiptoe to dust a high shelf. On the morning of the third day, the stranger approached the girl's father.

"A word, Master Ravenclaw? And with your wife as well, please?"

Ainslee, sitting at her loom, paled. She had heard such words other times in her life, and usually the torches were not far behind. But the stranger, who spoke with a southern accent, smiled kindly beneath a ginger-coloured mustache and beard. "Do not look so affrighted, Mistress Ravenclaw. It is concerning your daughter." Enda nodded and led the stranger into a back room, motioning for Ainslee to follow. "I should introduce myself," said the stranger, flinging back his hood. "I am Arlice Bericheart."

"The wizard of Ipswich," Enda said, eyes lighting up in understanding. He and Ainslee both relaxed, knowing now they were with someone unlikely to betray him.

Arlice nodded. "Your daughter has talent."

"She's a very bright girl," Ainslee remarked. "We know that. She's always picking up things from the people who stay here."

"Are you aware that she's performing spontaneous magic?"

"A little, yes," Enda said. "Mostly prophetic things that we've noticed. A few light levitation spells here and there."

"What are you planning with regards to her magical instruction?"

Enda and Ainslee looked at each other. "We'll teach her ourselves," Enda replied, looking a bit confused. "That's the way it's always been done in our families."

"Unless I miss my guess, Master Ravenclaw, you have an extremely gifted daughter. I just saw her perform an immobilizing charm without even a wand, and that demonstrates impressive talent. Raw talent."

"Yes, well, I suppose she's of an age now…" Enda murmured.

"Yes. She is. And if you'll forgive my saying so, she ought to be instructed by someone other than a tavernkeeper and his wife."

"I hope," said Ainslee, a bit defensively for the slight at her and her husband, "you don't mean yourself. It would not be at all—"

"No, Mistress Ravenclaw," said Arlice, smiling. "I would never presume such a thing. But I do know of a lady who is seeking a new pupil. I wonder, though, if I might have a chance to speak with your daughter, to see if my instincts regarding her are correct."

"As long as we may be present," Ainslee quickly replied.

"Of course, Mistress Ravenclaw. Of course."

"Ainslee, dear, go fetch Rowena." Ainslee obediently left the room to find her daughter, and Enda gave Arlice an appraising look. "They speak well of you, the men of the south," he said quietly. Arlice only nodded. "You must forgive my wife's shortness. She is… a distrustful sort."

"It is only natural," Arlice conceded, giving his beard a stroke with the knuckles of his right hand. "Any woman has right to be suspicious of an old codger like me making inquiries after her young daughter. I assure you, Master Ravenclaw, that it was the girl's magical talent and nothing else that caught my attention."

Enda nodded. "I do not doubt it. As I say, the men of the south speak your name with regard. And I trust a man's reputation when it precedes him so brightly."

Ainslee returned with a perplexed Rowena. The girl was disheveled, and seemed embarrassed to be brought before apparently important company in such a condition, with her gunna spattered with water and her dark hair falling out of its long braid. "Rowena, this is Master Arlice Bericheart of Ipswich." Rowena's sharp eyes widened a bit. She, like her father, had heard the name. She fidgeted, even more ashamed of her state now to know she was being presented to a notable wizard of the south. Quickly, she dropped a curtsy, looking down at the floor briefly before meeting Arlice's eyes again.

"Rowena, is it?" Arlice asked, and she nodded. "Well, then, Rowena. What magic do you know?"

Rowena looked questioningly at her mother for a moment before looking back at Arlice. "Mama has taught me much herblore. I know the uses of nearly all the native plants, and how to use many of them in potions."

"What sorts of potions?"

"Healing, mostly. The one we make most often is to cure a cough, although I did manage one to get rid of the colic last week. It wasn't very strong, though."

Arlice nodded patiently. "How about charms? What do you know of those?"

"Very little, sir," Rowena replied honestly. "I have picked up a few small tricks, but nothing grand."

"Might I see one of your tricks?"

Rowena nodded, and turned to a shelf of little satchels lining the wall. Narrowing her eyes, she focused on one, which she knew to be stuffed full of heather, and stretched her hand out towards it. After a moment, the pouch began to wobble, and then floated itself off of the shelf and into Rowena's waiting hand. With a small smile, she turned back to Arlice. "Sometimes I can get it faster than that. Sometimes not."

"Impressive…" Arlice murmured, more to himself than to the girl. "Without even a wand... very impressive… tell me, Rowena, can you read?"

She shook her head. "I can write my name, though. A man from Shrewsbury taught me a few years ago."

"Well, that will have to be amended," Arlice decided aloud. Ainslee startled, but Enda took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, and she remained quiet. "Rowena, would you like to learn to read? And learn more magic?"

"Oh yes!" Rowena exclaimed, nodding vigorously. All Arlice had needed to do was say the word "learn", and Rowena's heart was immediately captured by the proposal.

"Most excellent. I know a lady, a witch very famous in some parts of England, who might be willing to teach you, once she sees your talent for herself." Arlice glanced up at Enda. "I hope I may invite her to share your hospitality."

"Of course," Enda said. His face was as impassive as ever, but looking up at her father, Rowena thought she could see a spark of something alive, lurking in the back of his pale eyes. It was a light she had not seen in some time, not since the little ones had been killed. One day, years down the road, she would learn to recognise it as hope, but for the moment she was only a little girl glad to see what could be considered improvement in her father's demeanor.

Arlice smiled at Rowena again. "I think she will like you, Rowena. I will send her an owl this evening, and I'm sure she will come to see you for herself as soon as she is able."

* * *

The famed witch arrived two nights later, Apparating quietly into the darkness behind the tavern. She did not have to make her presence known as she entered the tavern; all there felt it immediately. Many left, uncomfortable with the strange sense of power being exuded by this dark-cloaked woman. Others simply stayed to watch in awe. Arlice Bericheart rose from his seat by the fire and went to embrace her. "You came."

"Naturally."

"Shall we go see the girl, then?"

In her short life, Rowena had only seen a few people dressed so finely as Lady Moira Aighan, and none who had impressed her so thoroughly. She stood, gaping, for a moment, before remembering to drop a curtsey. Lady Moira wore a bright blue kirtle and a gunna of vibrant green, edged in gold-threaded ribbon. Her veils were a softer blue, and hung down to her knees in the back, held in place by a jeweled headpiece. Her face, thought slightly aged, was beautiful, perfectly pale skin with high cheekbones and a few wisps of red-gold hair peeking out from under the veil. And her smile, as she looked at Rowena, was radiant.

"Mistress Rowena," she said in a voice that rang like bells, "I am glad to meet you."

"I am most honoured to be introduced to you, Lady Moira," Rowena replied, bowing her head. With a delicate finger, Moira reached out and tilted Rowena's chin up.

"Let me see what you can do, child," she declared.

Rowena performed some of the same magics that she had for Arlice Bericheart, but Lady Moira pushed her further, testing her inventiveness and her ability to make quick decisions. Rowena was disappointed in herself for fumbling a few attempts, but Lady Moira seemed pleased with all her efforts. "Excellent, Mistress Rowena. Most excellent indeed." She gave Arlice a knowing look. "You have always known how to pick them, my dear Arlice."

"I do try, my lady."

"She shows remarkable creativity for one so young, no doubt born out of a lack of means, but it will benefit her well, I think," Lady Moira appraised, speaking as though Rowena was not in the room, though her pale blue eyes were looking over the girl. "Yes… I think she may go far…" Lady Moira stood and turned to Enda. "Might I have a word with you in private, Master Ravenclaw?" Enda nodded, and he and Lady Moira disappeared to another room.

Rowena could not help but fidget, knowing Arlice's eyes were still on her, as though waiting for her to spontaneously do something astounding. Instead, she looked at her mother. "Did I do alright, Mama?"

"Yes, dear," Ainslee flatly replied. "You did just fine."

"Lady Moira was impressed," Arlice put in. "Unless I miss my guess, she is now speaking with your father about the possibility of taking you on as a student."

Rowena looked thoughtful. "Would I have to leave home?"

"Perhaps," Arlice answered. "I can not say for sure. Would that upset you?"

Rowena's eyes darted to Ainslee's forlorn face, and she replied, "Yes, a little. But I would so like to learn magic from Lady Moira."

After a few more moments, Moira and Enda returned. Moira was smiling, and the little light had again reentered Enda's eyes. "Rowena," Moira began, "how would you like it if I came to live here in Alnwick and taught you magic?"

"Oh!" Rowena exclaimed. "Oh, really? That would be wonderful, my lady!"

Moira reached out for Rowena's hand. "I suspected you might say so. We will have to travel some, but your home may still be here."

Rowena beamed brightly. It was as though Lady Moira had known precisely what her greatest fear in this proposal would be, and worked quickly to quell it. "Where will we travel to?" Rowena asked excitedly.

"First to London. You need a wand, foremost, and some other affects as well."

"We can't afford—" Ainslee began to protest.

"Your husband," Moira said, cutting her off coolly, "has kindly offered that my room and board will be payment for the girl's instruction and materials."

"When may we go?" Rowena asked, bouncing up on the balls of her toes.

"Excited?" Moira asked with an amused smile. "I'm glad to see that. We will leave tomorrow, if you can be ready, Mistress Rowena."

"Oh, yes, my lady," Rowena said, not seeing the wounded expression on Ainslee's face. "As soon as we can!"

* * *

Rowena slept well that night, curled on her pallet on the floor of her parents' room. She was smiling in her sleep, and Enda nearly smiled to see it. "She'll have to have her own room from now on, to share with the Lady," he thought out loud. "No more a child, our little Rowena."

"Enda, do you really think this is a good idea?" Ainslee voiced, rebraiding her hair for the night. "Sending her off to London with a woman we've just met…"

"A witch who has the esteem of most of Britain," Enda replied. "And willing to teach Rowena all that she knows."

"I'm just not sure it's wise… I don't see why she needs a tutor. I learned everything I know from my parents, as did you, and we've turned out well enough." A slight pout was forming on Ainslee's lips, an expression that had contributed to the delicate beauty of her youth.

Enda sat down on the bed next to her. "But don't you want more for her?"

"What else is there?"

Enda shook his head. Ainslee was pretty, and bright enough for what she was, but the woman had never had much imagination. "She could be great, Ainslee, I'm sure of it. Our little girl is so bright… she could be like that Lady Moira, a name known and respected wherever she goes."

"I just don't see why she has to go anywhere."

"Ainslee," Enda said, starting to become exasperated, "she needs more than this life. She needs more than this tenuous existence, packing up and moving every few years, practicing little magics to get by. She deserves to be like the Lady, if she can."

The pout did not leave Ainslee's face as she finished off her plait and fell back against the bed, rolling so that her back was to Enda. He sighed, and laid down as well, thinking of how he would be able to let his little girl go come morning.

* * *

Arlice Bericheart and Moira Aighan stayed in the main room of the tavern until long after all the other guests had gone to bed.

"Do you think she's the one, Arlice?"

"If I didn't," the ginger-haired man said, poking at the fire, "I wouldn't have dragged you up here."

"So is that two that we have?"

"And one that Lord Aster has."

Moira sighed, rubbing at her left temple. "That doesn't mean…"

"I know." Arlice straightened, leaving the fire to work its way back to blazing flames. "I know. We can't discount Aster."

"We have to trust him a certain amount, Arlice. He's—"

"I know." Arlice sat back down across the table from Moira, and pulled a faded scroll of parchment out of his sack. "Another look, shall we?" Moira gestured for him to open it, though it only revealed a poem she had read many times and had memorized long ago. Somehow looking at the words, rather than merely thinking them, often helped the riddles to make more sense. The text was in Latin, but Moira and Arlice both could translate it on sight, and Moira drew a deep breath and began reading out loud.

"'_Hark, ye listeners, to a tale of old_'… Sweet Morgan, the introduction is boring…" she muttered, scanning down the page past the customary invocation of the muse and recitation of the poet's credentials. "Ah. Better. '_For there shall come a time when all Britain's magic hinges on the success of Four, whose destinies are written in fire and starlight, whose brightness shall illuminate the Isles for all time._'"

"Skip ahead," Arlice said. "We know that part."

Moira rifled through the parchments, and her eyes skimmed down to the fifth section of the text, entitled "Cærulus" by some interpreter a hundred years earlier. It followed the introduction, the parchment detailing how the mysterious Four were fated to shape Britain's magic for all time, and two sections entitled "Rutilus" and "Viridis". Moira continued reading. "'_The third, a lady born in glen, with the fairy mark upon her.__ A child of the lost times, in touch with the forgotten powers. She will find the hidden ways, the roads to worlds her teachers have forgotten how to see.'_" Moira frowned at this, not liking any slight on her capability, even if it did come from someone who had been dead for four hundred years. "'_She comes from the old blood of __Britain__, with the moon in her eyes.'"_

"That, I think, is clear," Arlice interrupted. "Our little girl is clearly of Celtic blood, and she has silver eyes, has she not?"

"How poetic of you," Moira replied. "They are grey, yes, but that bit about the moon… I have always felt that it must mean more than colour."

"Second Sight?" Arlice ventured.

Moira nodded. "That was my instinct, though perhaps we're reading too much into it."

"Her father says she shows prophetic tendencies, though I have yet to see any of them."

"In time, I suppose. In time. I should keep close watch over her during the next full moon." She looked back at the scrolls, then up at Arlice again. "What do you suppose the fairy mark is?"

"I can not say. I have observed no strange blemishes on the child, but it is entirely possible she may not receive the mark until later in life. The text is, as ever, vague."

"Hmm…" Moira returned to the text. "'_She will be recognized, in her own time and for all, for cleverness and wit, and love of learning. The pursuit of knowledge will lead her to dark places, and bring her out again._' Well, our little Rowena so far displays those traits."

"I don't know why you're bothering with that," Arlice remarked. "You're already convinced, or you wouldn't have agreed to take her on as a student."

Moira continued, skipping down a few lines. "'_Caught between, her head her strength but her heart her weakness, a lady made but ever a woman born._' Cryptic, that."

"They make sense in time, Moira."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right," she said, beginning to roll up the scrolls. "And how is your student faring?"

"Precisely as I expected," Arlice replied. "He does not always learn the right way to do things, but he always finds the quickest. It is a different sort of clever than I believe Rowena will show."

"How old is he now?"

"Ten. And he's been with me three years," Arlice continued, anticipating Moira's next question.

"Promising?"

"Oh, very promising. I have no doubts about him." Arlice gave the scrolls a pointed look. "So far he fits the description in every way. Only time will tell if he grows into what it predicts for him."

Moira sighed, slipping the leather band about the parchments. "So we have two," she stated.

Arlice nodded. "So we have two."


	3. London

**Chapter Two**

**London**

Rowena met Lady Moira the next morning outside of the Dusty Raven, shortly after dawn. Moira was holding the reigns of a fine grey horse, and smiled down at her pupil. "Do you ride, Rowena?" Rowena shook her head. "Well, you're still small enough that the two of us together shouldn't trouble Wealtheow," Moira said, patting the mare's neck. "And I can hang on to you, so you needn't worry about falling. Pity you can't Apparate… but that's magic for a few years from now." Moira looked up, brushing her veils back from her face. "And how much longer will you be staying in Alnwick, Arlice?"

The ginger-haired man had appeared in the doorway, and strode forward now. "No longer," he replied. "I am back to Ipswich this afternoon. I would not want to leave my student any longer."

Moira nodded. "We will have to keep each other informed, then. Your owl knows where to find me."

"And yours, me," Arlice said, nodding.

"Will I see you again, sir?" Rowena asked without shyness.

Arlice smiled beneath his mustache. "Would you like to?" The dark-haired girl nodded vehemently. "Well, I am sure our paths will cross again someday."

"When you've trained up a bit," Moira said, "perhaps you can meet his student. He is not so much older than you. Think you they might make good companions, Arlice?"

Arlice chuckled. "My dear boy makes a good companion out of anyone, whether they take to him initially or not. But yes, I do think he and Rowena would get on well."

Rowena's pale eyes lit up at the prospect of meeting the student of a man who appeared to be as great a wizard as Moira was a witch. "I would like that very much, sir," she said enthusiastically.

"We should be going, Rowena," Moira said. "Say goodbye to your parents."

Rowena ran to her parents and flung her arms first around Ainslee. "Goodbye, Mama. Don't look so sad! I'll be back soon." Ainslee did not say anything, but hugged her daughter tightly. Rowena did not see the tears in the blue eyes. When she hugged Enda, the man picked her up and swung her around, as he had not done before their move to Alnwick, and Rowena giggled delightedly.

"You be a good girl, Rowena," he admonished. "No acting up or upsetting the Lady."

"No, sir."

"And enjoy yourself." He smiled, looking younger than he had in some time. "This is a great opportunity, my dear girl. This is the beginning of your life's adventure." Enda said this in the tone of a man who had once longed for his life to have such an adventure, but whose path had gone a different direction. Rowena, too young to understand such things as regret for deeds left undone, only giggled and nodded. She kissed Enda on the cheek, and then wriggled to be put back down, running back to Lady Moira as quickly as she'd flown to her parents. Ainslee went inside immediately, unable to watch as another woman doted on her little girl.

Lady Moira swung herself up onto the horse, sitting gracefully sidesaddle. "Arlice, would you mind helping the child up? Hike your skirts, dear, you're young enough that it doesn't matter. There we are." Rowena sat astride the horse, nestled against Moira's protective arm. She waved one last time to her father as Lady Moira bade farewell to Arlice Bericheart, and then they were on their way.

* * *

For a girl who had never been out of upper North Umbria, London was almost overwhelmingly large. Rowena voiced this thought to Lady Moira as they wound their way through muddy streets, and the older witch laughed. "My dear Rowena, some day I will take you to see truly large cities… Toulouse, Rome – though Rome is not so fine as it once was – and perhaps even farther east, to Byzantium and Alexandria."

"Is London not so big, then?"

"For England, it is large. But for the world—" Moira made a dismissive gesture. "It hardly signifies. London was very important once, though. It used to be the capital city of England."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the king lived here, with all his court, and they ruled the land from here."

"Where do they live now?"

Moira snorted derisively, though Rowena missed the political implications of the exhale. "Wherever they please. England is too divided to have a real capital. Did you know the people are ruled by a different ruler in Alnwick than they are here in London?" Rowena shook her head. Her eyes were darting around the streets, at the bakers and blacksmiths and housewives, and Moira realised that she was losing her student's attention, having delved into a topic perhaps too adult for the girl. "They used to call the city Londinium, in Roman days," she said, "and now some call it Lundenwic or Lundenburgh."

Rowena blinked up. "There were Romans here? When?"

"Many centuries ago. A leader called Julius Caesar led his legions here a thousand years ago, and was driven off by the great warrior-queen Boudicca. It was a few hundred years after that before the Romans were able to take the island."

"A warrior-queen?" Rowena asked. "Can you tell me more about her?"

Moira chuckled. "Someday, perhaps. Or I will teach you Latin, and you may read about her for yourself." Rowena bounced a little, looking thrilled at the prospect. "But now…" Moira had stopped in front of a tavern with a thatched roof. "We have shopping to do." She took Rowena's hand and pushed open the door to the tavern, whose charcoal-written sign proclaimed it the Flightless Dragon.

Once inside, Moira strode directly to a man behind a counter and requested a room. "Only for a night," she said. "The child and myself. I will pay for privacy." The tavernkeeper nodded, and led Moira and Rowena to a small but clean room upstairs. Within, Moira sighed, removing her mantle and headrail. "Silly Muggle conventions," she muttered, shaking out her waist-length red-gold curls. Rowena thought that Moira appeared younger and more beautiful with her hair showing. "Remember this, Rowena – among our own kind, a woman, a witch, may dress and act as she pleases, though you'll take care always to do so with grace and dignity, but in the Muggle world…" Moira sighed heavily, folding the garments and setting them on the bed. She took Rowena's hand and started back downstairs. "Well, the Muggles have some very strange ideas on how to treat the fairer sex." Rowena nodded in understanding. She was still young enough to avoid the restrictions placed on full-grown women, but she saw the silent wives of the travelers that passed through the Dusty Raven, and how they never spoke in public and did precisely as their husbands bade. "Come, Rowena. Time to show you Diagon Alley."

Moira led Rowena back downstairs, through a series of small corridors that ended, seemingly, in a tapestry. Woven on it were images of the great witches and wizards past, from Circe of Aiaia and the Princess Medea, to the Druid poet-kings of Britain's earliest days, to the struggles of Merlin and Morgan both fighting for their way of magic to prevail. Rowena could have stared at the artwork for hours, but Lady Moira pulled her wand from her sleeve and uttered, "_Aperio_." The tapestry pulled itself back, revealing a wooden arch, a gateway to an entirely different world.

Rowena gasped to see the street beyond the archway. It seemed so different from Muggle London, and she could hardly believe that they were only separated by a single building. "Wand first, I think," Moira said, steering Rowena towards a shop whose sign read: "Ollivander's – Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

Rowena looked up at Moira as they entered the shop. "382 B.C. Was that before or after the Romans?"

"Before. Well before, my dear." Moira brushed hair from Rowena's eyes, then looked up and called out, "Hephaestus Ollivander! Hephaestus, you barmy old coot, where are you?"

A man of middling years, with graying brown hair and dusty robes, appeared from around a shelf. "Moira Aighan! Are the plagues of Egypt following close behind?"

Moira laughed and stepped forward to embrace him. "Hephaestus, how have you been?"

"Well enough, Moira my dear, well enough. Business isn't what it might be, but then it never is." He suddenly seemed aware of Rowena's presence. "And who is this little lady?"

Moira smiled broadly, putting a hand on Rowena's shoulder. "Rowena Ravenclaw, of Alnwick, my new pupil."

Hephaestus straightened, wide-eyed. "Does that mean--?"

Moira nodded, but gave him a sharp look. "Yes. I'll be teaching her and her alone for the next while."

Hephaestus blinked a few times before nodding in comprehension. "Well. I suppose she'll be needing a wand, then? Come here, Rowena." He lifted her onto a stool, then dashed to the shelves, which were overflowing with little wooden boxes. He returned with a stack of them and stood before Rowena. "Pick one. Intuition's as good a place to start as any." Tentatively, Rowena reached out and selected a narrow box. Hephaestus plucked the wand from it, but no sooner had he put it in her hands than he snatched it back again. "No, no, not that one… ebony, perhaps?" Another was given and taken away. "Certainly not, all wrong. Maybe—" He picked up a black box and put a wand in her hands. Immediately, it sparked, sending little blue bursts everywhere. Rowena laughed delightedly. "Excellent! That will be it, then!"

"What's it of, Hephaestus?" Moira asked

"Willow. Nine and three-quarters inches. Core of Sphinx hair. Do you know what Sphinx is, Rowena?"

She nodded. "A lion-woman who asks impossible questions."

Hephaestus laughed. "Well, thankfully not quite impossible. I answered one's riddle, and in exchange for not telling anyone her secret, she gave me a hair from her mane." Rowena looked in amazement at the rod of wood in her hands, hardly believing it had such a story behind it. "Alright, then, Moira, I assume you're paying?"

"Yes. Rowena, go wait outside while I have a word with Master Ollivander." As the curly-haired girl left the shop, looking more at her wand than at anything around her, Lady Moira turned her glance to Hephaestus, and opened up her pouch. "Hold your tongue in the future, might you?" she asked, laying a gold coin on the table. "I've only known her a day, and she's only just eight years old. I don't know how I'd explain to her that she may well be one-fourth of the fulfillment of a prophecy made before the time of Merlin."

Hephaestus nodded. "My apologies, Moira. It was just – such a shock, you taking on a new student. I thought it could only be—"

"Of course. I understand. But… discretion, please, Hephaestus."

"Of course, my dear." He pocketed the gold coin. "So tell me how you found her."

"Master Arlice Bericheart, actually. You recall him?"

"Ah, yes. Fine man. From Ipswich, I believe?"

"Yes… well, he stumbled across the girl during his travels, and was so taken with her natural abilities that he owled me to come up to North Umbria straight away."

"Remarkable… she must be a wonder."

Moira tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "She's certainly precocious. I hate to jump to conclusions regarding the prophecy, though… a matter of such importance…" She sighed, turning her blue eyes up to Hephaestus again. "The fate of all the wizarding world may hinge on that little girl, my friend, and the companions she makes in the next few years."

"That's quite a burden," he remarked.

"So you can see why I do not want to lay it on her mind yet." She sighed again. "She will have to know someday, I suppose, but… eight is far too young to even comprehend that sort of responsibility, much less to be able to handle it."

Outside the shop, Rowena was experimentally flinging her wand about, trying out swishes and flicks she had seen her parents use on various occasions. Nothing happened, but for a few more bursts of fading blue sparks, but Rowena was delighted nonetheless. She was so absorbed in her experimentations that she did not see the red-tuniced boy barreling down the street until he ran into her, and they both fell to the damp ground. "Oh!" Rowena cried, and kicked at him.

"I'm sorry!" he yelped, scrambling to his feet. "I didn't see you, I—" He looked behind him, then extended a hand to help her up. "I wasn't looking. I'm sorry."

Rowena scowled for a moment, but the youth, not much older than herself, had friendly eyes, and she believed he had not really meant to harm her. "You're forgiven," she said, a bit imperiously.

He looked backwards again, then grinned. "Hey, what's your name? I haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm only visiting," she explained. "And my name's Rowena."

"Lovely," he said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. It was, Rowena thought, the colour of brightly polished copper, blondish with a shining red hue. "What poor manners of me. I should be more careful when I'm running away from Master, lest I trample any more fairies like yourself."

Rowena knew he was teasing, but giggled anyway. "I'm not a fairy."

The boy affronted a shocked expression. "Surely you mock me!" She giggled more. "Think you I do not know a fairy when I see one, so delicate and dark? What are you, if not a fairy?"

"Celtic," she replied, still laughing. "And with that hair, you can't be anything but Saxon. And you still haven't told me your name."

The boy grinned again, but before he could reply, Rowena heard her name being called. She whirled about, and was taken by the shoulder by Lady Moira. "Good heavens, Rowena, how did you get so dirty?" she asked, steering Rowena away from the boy.

"That boy – he ran into me –"

"Well, never mind, you'll be needing a new shift anyway. You're about to grow out of that one, I can tell. Now, then. A cauldron, a scrying glass, a chalice… Fundo's next, I think."

Rowena looked over her shoulder as Lady Moira led her away. The boy, it seemed, had also been intercepted by his keeper. The man was darkly cloaked, and had taken the boy by the ear and appeared to be giving him a firm scolding. Rowena looked up, and realised Moira was watching them as well, and frowning. Then she prodded Rowena onward, as the boy and the man turned a corner and disappeared.

By the end of the day, Rowena had collected all of the affects necessary to begin her magical training. All the packages had been bundled up, with instructions for them to be delivered to the Flightless Dragon no later than the next morning. Rowena was exhausted. She had been dragged all up and down the street, and made to tell who she was no fewer than a dozen times. As they trudged back up to the tavern, Lady Moira smiled indulgently down at her.

"I know you faced a lot of questions today, Rowena, and you did very well, but this is something you're going to have to get used to. As my pupil, you will always face questions regarding yourself."

"Why is that, Lady Moira?" Rowena was trying very hard to keep her weariness from her voice; she did not want Lady Moira to think her weak or disinterested.

"Because people know me. And they know that, for reasons I need not explain, I have not taken a pupil in a very long time. So they will naturally be interested." She guided Rowena back into the Flightless Dragon. "Some supper, and then a bit of instruction before bed." Rowena's eyes lit up. Shopping had been fascinating at first but quickly tiring. Finally getting to instructions, however, excited her greatly.

Lady Moira requested that she and Rowena take dinner in their room, to spare the child any more prying eyes and curious inquisitors. When the serving girl entered with a wooden tray and trenchers, a gamboling kitten entered at her heels. Rowena squealed in delight as the little ball of fur clambered up onto the bed and deposited itself in her lap.

"Well, I'll be," the serving girl said. "She's taken a likin' to ye." Rowena giggled. "Ye should keep her. Th' house cat just kittened and we're near overrun with th' things. She could use a good home, if ye don' mind me sayin' so," she added hastily, with an uncertain look at Lady Moira.

Moira chuckled. "What do you think, Rowena? Would you like a kitten?"

"Oh, yes, my lady!" Rowena exclaimed, giggling and cuddling the tortoiseshell fluff to her chest. The kitten seemed to know what was going on, and mewed happily.

"Ah, excellent well," said the serving girl. "A place shouldn' have more cats 'n mice, after all."

When Moira and Rowena had finished their meals, Moira went to her traveling pack and pulled out a roll of parchment, a feather-quill, and some ink. "Come here, Rowena." Rowena hopped off the bed, leaving her new kitten on her pillow, and went over to Moira's side. "The very first thing I must teach you is how to read and write. Without this knowledge, you will never fulfill your potential. Now, dear, write your name for me." Rowena took the quill and did so, in halting, fragmented letters.

"Not entirely bad," Moira said. "Do you know the whole alphabet, or just the letters in your name?"

"I think... I think I might know most of them," Rowena answered uncertainly.

"Give it a try, then." Rowena managed to scratch out most of the alphabet she knew, leaving out a few letters but getting the general gist of it. "And what about in the Roman way of writing?" Moira asked. Rowena bit her lip, and tried to copy out what of those she had seen, but there were far fewer characters that she could remember. "I expected as much. Here, Rowena, watch carefully." Moira then took the quill and wrote out the full alphabet, first in Latin characters, then in the runes with which Rowena was more familiar. After explaining each one, she patiently listened as Rowena recited them to herself. It did not take long for the girl to commit both alphabets to memory, and when Moira smiled at her, Rowena felt an inner burst of pride. "You're a very clever girl, Rowena. I want you to practise writing these letters every day until you can make them all properly, and to recite them to yourself until you have no hesitation about them. Tomorrow we'll start on words and such, but I think that's enough for tonight." Rowena felt disappointed, until Moira stood and went on, "Go tuck yourself into bed now, and I'll tell you some history before you go to sleep."

Rowena unbelted her gunna, quickly shucked it and her kirtle off, and leapt into bed. Moira frowned at her slightly. "We must buy you some new clothes, child. That chemise is falling apart." She shrugged, and though Rowena was very excited at the thought of having new clothes, the thought vaguely occurred to her of how out of place she would look back in the Dusty Raven.

She settled into bed, and Moira sat down beside her, and launched into a tale from ancient Greece, about the group of witches known as the granddaughters of the sun, a coven of which Circe, Medea, and Dido were all members. Woven together were mythology and history, and even as Rowena listened, entranced by the stories of love and betrayal, she was absorbing all the knowledge Moira offered her about the magic used by these ancients. Of them, only Circe had used a wand, and Rowena found it fascinating to imagine that the others had worked such powerful magic without such an instrument. She learned how the arts of herbology and potion-brewing were as old as humanity itself, as Moira backtracked a little to even older forms of magic, from Sumeria and Egypt. Moira talked until well past midnight, after the tallow candles had gone out, and though it was far past Rowena's usual bedtime, the pale grey eyes refused to close until Moira smiled and said, "I fear if I do not stop now, I will continue teaching until dawn, and you will have no time for sleep. Rest now, little one. We will have another busy day tomorrow."

Rowena nodded, yawning as Moira touched her forehead lightly. She was asleep as soon as she allowed her eyes to close.


End file.
